The green and blue sky is weeping wondrously
My soarless wings of mine is damp with jealousy
This mind of mine — half blank, half fragmented with wit
This heart of yours — it beats for me alone? I hardly doubt it
The yellow and red is the rivers of rowdiness of course
The mellow dread inside makes me want to die and divorce
These feelings of darksome gloom and the words I loathe or love
I can’t even fathom or think of…I just want to be your tranquil dove
I won’t feel anymore
I will numb to the core
I soar, I am oh so sore
I must open that opportunity door
I bust open the windows instead
I lust, I must stop this utter dread
I dust away the dust from my feet and eat unleavened bread
I let them all pass over me –
The cheery Happy Easters!
Assuming I will be among
Today’s hot cross bun feasters.
But no, I won’t be eating lamb
Or ham with all its glazing,
Although I’m sure the Easter pies
My friend makes are amazing.
For I’m observing Pesach,*
So what I will eat instead
Will be matzoh or its relatives,
All with unleavened bread.
Of course, there’s meat and chicken,
Lots of veggies, eggs and fruit
And special cakes and cookies,
Made with matzoh meal, to boot.
I used to set those people straight
Whose greetings had no clue
That Easter’s not for everyone,
But I no longer do.
When people offer me a wish
For a Happy Easter day,
I smile and say, “The same to you”
And send them on their way.
*Passover
The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched - they must be felt with the heart." Hellen Keller
Snow-tipped mountains ranged around the prairie,
Small rivulets wavered down the steep sides,
Spreading nutriments, flourishing flowers.
Bright red poppies, and yellow celandines
Swayed all around, as a balmy breeze blew.
Aiding agile grey geese gracefully glide.
Above the shade of a cluster of oaks.
A few old men tended a flock of sheep,
Most chewed unleavened bread, nibbling on cheese.
Till to a tavern they'd go, to drink beer.
Placed 1
Set out in an upper room,
passover made new;
wine,unleavened bread
with thanksgiving said-
Then a hymn of Praise !
wine, unleavened bread
with thanksgiving said-
& a hymn of Praise
as hands to Him..we raise
Set out in an upper room,
passover made new;
tender slowly cooked lamb stew,
wine,unleavened bread
with thanksgiving said-
A hymn of
Praise !
Set out in an upper room,
passover made new;
tender slowly cooked lamb stew,
wine,unleavened bread
with thanksgiving said-
A hymn of
Praise !
Note:(ichthys), or XIesoûs Khristós, Theoû Huiós, Sot?r;translates into English as 'Jesus Christ, Son of God, Savior'
I saw her sitting placidly on a wide stone
Sucking sweet strawberries.
She picked a fruit
Pinching the leaves and sucked on the fruit.
She was completely oblivious of me
Despite that I was one of her regular buyers.
A slight warm breeze flowed from a near by field.
Rows and rows of plants with pods of broad beans
Hanging from the stems,
Young tender beans so sweet in flavour.
I love the taste of unleavened bread,
Saturated with strong olive oil, tomato paste,
Capers and sliced olives and beans.
A glass of beer would compliment all.
The young woman now looked at me.
I asked to buy some beans.
We did not haggle.
But I had to pick the pods myself!
On my return I saw she still sucked strawberries.
She stood up to receive the money.
I stood still watching the red wet mouth.
Impulsively I kissed her.
She did not resist.
She smiled and handed me a small container
Full of lovely red strawberries.
She smiled and sweetly said:
Compliments of a kiss.
Occasionally I dream.
Black ominous spots as my eyes close.
A dream I never remember,
A dream I don't want to remember.
For when I do I cringe with fear,
Sit in a corner of my darkened room,
Trying unsuccessfully to forget.
Fitful recurring dream,
That leaves the palate dry,
Devoid of savored zest,
Flat as unleavened bread.
Murky shadows in a dark room,
Swirling, gasping, mutely roaring,
Ugly, brusque, dyspeptic, and morose.
It gyrates meaninglessly in the void,
A menacing, unpleasant stench
That eventually dissolves into nothingness.
A dream orchestrated to confuse,
Meant to gradually unhinge the mind.
So fatigued, I sleep and dream.
The rest I am awake to face
The terrors of the night.
Surrounded by four impenetrable walls.
It's unleavened bread
served at Passover seders
symbolic of haste.
Square-shaped and corrugated
it looks like a big cracker.
Charoset is a sweet, brown relish eaten during Passover.
It symbolizes brick mortar on a plate during a Seder.
This is a sweet treat made for the season in all nations.
There is no single recipe. Existing are many variations.
Included are apples, raisins, dates, and cinnamon.
Sometimes added are walnuts, figs, pomegranates, and saffron.
Charoset is usually placed between layers of unleavened bread.
Its thick texture makes it something easy to spread.
Often "dukeh" and "halegh" can be used as a designation.
May this Passover food be handed down to each generation.
I thank wikipedia.org for valuable information I obtained to write this poem.
COMMUNAL SUPPER
Set out in an upper room,
passover made new;
tender slowly cooked lamb stew,
wine,unleavened bread
with thanksgiving said-
A hymn of
Praise !
Occasionally I dream.
Black ominous spots in my closed eyes.
Dreams I never remember,
Dreams I don't want to remember.
For when I do I cringe with fear
Sit in a corner of my darkened room,
Trying unsuccessfully to forget.
Fitful recurring dreams,
That leaves the palate dry,
Devoid of savored zest,
Flat as unleavened bread.
Dark shadows in a dark room,
Swirling, gasping, mutely roaring,
Ugly, brusque, dyspeptic, and morose.
It gyrates meaninglessly in the void,
A menacing, unpleasant stench
That eventually dissolves into nothingness.
Dreams orchestrated to confuse,
Meant to gradually unhinge the mind.
So occasionally I dream.
The rest I am awake to face
The terrors of the night.
Note: I wrote this poem in 2003. never posted as far as I know. Sometimes I enjoy dark poems but they are FICTIONAL.
He was weary of prostitutes.
The young ones were vacuous,
their bodies unleavened bread.
The mature models scored
by the violence of disappointment.
Both the naive and the bitter
were dull molds.
He had dissected women, both old and girlish.
On moonless nights carried their corpses,
on muffled barrows to his garret.
By the light of a hundred candles
he had eased flesh apart,
nose swathed in verbena drenched rags,
hands tweaking tissue, tracing
sensuous shapes under dead curves.
He hired women of every class.
The rich were flattered, vain,
the poor always eager to earn.
None made the stone blossom.
It was a matter of timing,
catching her as she emerged
from her littoral crest.
It seemed his models
were always coming to, or moving away
from that conjunction.
yet he kept opening shells
until death took him.
At his funeral
his straight-backed widow,
adorned in darkest weeds,
hid her anger well.
Despising those cold hands
that never knew
how to reveal her.
Set out in an upper room,
passover made new;
tender slowly cooked lamb stew,
wine,unleavened bread
with thanksgiving said-
A hymn of
Praise !
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